


Rhododendron

by UponPaleWings



Series: Sleep deprived works and poems [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, MINOR DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23164702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UponPaleWings/pseuds/UponPaleWings
Summary: What do shape-shifters eat? The moon? Dreams? Thoughts? Well whatever it is, it isn't pretty to watch.
Series: Sleep deprived works and poems [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646053
Kudos: 2





	Rhododendron

The trickster was smart; it knew that the pack of hunter-wolves would eventually catch it if it could not divest itself of its wild skin. A river would be the best option of escape if the spirit could find one, as scent only carries so far over white rapids, and prey meat is more tantalizing than the pelt of a Jackal no matter what foul deeds have been committed.

The pack was getting closer, baying for blood that ran only a few miles more ahead of them, pumping through a skin-changer’s heart that would no longer beat when they caught it. The hunt’s long stride slowly ate away the distance separating hunters and hunted, and to the battle mad pack, a ferocious end was guaranteed with each step they took closer.

Farther ahead of the Hunt, the burning yellow sun sank slowly towards the earth, lighting a golden fire on the horizon and painting the sky in royal swaths of color. Illuminated in its heavenly rays, a strange river of dark green churned from the passage of the chased skin-changer. Usually blood thirsty and swallowing any animal foolish enough to cross its waters, the river graciously allowed the Jackal passage because of the lives promised to it by the wild spirit, who was now eagerly lying in wait for its pursuers to catch up and meet their misfortune. The ferocious hunt, so close to its prey, splashed through the deceptively calm water in an instant, unknowing of the trap they so eagerly jumped into. The water around the Hunt suddenly frothed into rapids, sweeping away bodies closest to the river’s middle. Caught in disarray, the wolves wildly tried to battle the hurricane current, all the while being battered against sharp stones previously hidden by dark liquid. At the safety of the other bank, the trickster jackal laughed in harmony to the sickening crunch of bone on rock, watching with diseased humor as it’s would-be killers became but hapless leaves to furious nature. Sopping wet and battered, the remaining pack growled as they were taunted from a safer bank. The river still frothing in white spray roared a challenge to the wolves gnashing teeth, daring the hunt to cross the river’s water again.

Howling in protest again for prey let go, the hunt paced on sandy banks, snarling at the blood left to swirl in the green-black waters; two of their own were killed bashed to pulp on the rocks, and three drowned in the maelstrom of suffocating darkness. With no way around the deadly river, and with the full moon rising large in the sky, the diminished hunt turned away from the gloating spirit who outsmarted them.

Across the water, still dripping as the vestiges of fight-or-flight adrenaline left its body, the wild spirit walked away from the bank to sit upon a rock. As the skin-changer calmed its breath from body shaking pants to near whispering inhales, the wild spirit stood and turned its face to the sparkling sky. Bathed in the silver light of a heavily pregnant moon, :it shivered; striping off its shining wild-skin, the jackal shaped its new pelt into hands and feet, clothing itself in the shape of man instead of animal. Staggering slightly on two legs when stepping off the rock, the trickster stretched its new muscles, getting used to the feeling of man-skin settling in place. Cunning lips curled back to show sharpened teeth smiling in macabre beauty, and intelligence shone from dark jaded eyes. The skin-changer gazed towards the calm desert, seeking out the smell of dreams in the stretching miles of sand and rock, prowling towards vivid fragments floating as wisps in the air. With one last cackle at a new feeling of freedom, the Jackal took its first steps towards moonlit sands, following the trail of tantalizing thoughts to the feast that waited near human caravans. ‘ _ After all _ , _ ’  _ the trickster spirit thought to itself, ‘ _ a hungry beast is a useless beast _ ,  _ and one cannot have fun without eating first.’ _

Months later, stories of disappearing travelers reached the ears of townspeople, along with haunting tales of ghostly laughter echoing in the cold desert nights and strange shapes moving beyond the light of campfires. The wilderness had become dangerous, inheriting a sinister presence watching from the shadows cast by cactuses, dragging fingers down the backs of those too ignorant to heed its whispered warning. People in the towns became wary of outsiders, as old legends were uncovered and passed from mouth to mouth in the darkness of the night, reminding natives of spirits who were fickle in giving favor and terrifying in causing destruction. Houses became still and silent when the moon showed its face, as when the people looked out in fear from shuttered windows, the wild they saw stared back with hungry eyes.

A devil had come to play in the village of Southern Wind,

And it seemed to have developed a craving for flesh.

“Do not let the fear of evil caution you from welcome, but beware the unknown face that comes knocking after dark.”

**Author's Note:**

> blah blah blah third week blah... how r u doing people? still alive and kicking I hope? stick in there, it'll get better.


End file.
